


It was right here

by melissmallfic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 510 alternate ending, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3604086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissmallfic/pseuds/melissmallfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It was right fucking here, I swear to god,” Mickey said, pointing at the empty lot. The space looked like it had been vacant for years. There were large, broken pieces of concrete and a rusted, chain-link fence that was no longer upright. A few weeds and assorted trash were scattered throughout.</p><p>Mickey and Ian try to go on their date to Sizzler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was right here

“It was right fucking here, I swear to god,” Mickey said, pointing at the empty lot. The space looked like it had been vacant for years. There were large, broken pieces of concrete and a rusted, chain-link fence that was no longer upright. A few weeds and assorted trash were scattered throughout. 

“Sure, Mick,” Ian said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, we’ll find someplace else. Maybe there’s still a Roy Rogers, too.”

Mickey frowned and shook his head. “It was here, I know it was.” 

A woman who looked like she was roughly in her sixties walked past them, shouldering a large, worn tote bag filled with groceries.

Mickey called out to her after she’d gone past. “Ay! Lady!”

She turned around, one eyebrow raised. “What? I don’t have any change.”

Ian barked out a laugh as Mickey sputtered angrily. “Fuck, no, I’m not lookin’ for a handout.” She rolled her eyes and Ian laughed again. “You live around here?”

“Since 1981, what the fuck is it to you?” she said. 

“Alright, good. There was a fuckin’ Sizzler right here, wasn’t there?” He swept his arm across the abandoned lot.

“No,” she said. 

Ian shoved Mickey happily. “You’re losin’ it. What the hell are we gonna do if we  _both_ go fuckin’ crazy, Mick?”

“Wait, wait,” she said, readjusting her tote and looking up. “No, you’re right. But it closed fifteen years ago. At least.”

Now Mickey shoved Ian. He was grinning. “See, dipshit? I  _remember_ things.” He put his hands on Ian’s waist and cocked his head, his smile bigger. Ian stared back, shaking his head fondly. He put his hand on the side of Mickey’s face, cleaned of all the blood from earlier. Mickey’s lip was a little swollen, and Ian thought for a minute that he looked cute. He smiled, wondering what Mickey would do if he said it out loud. Probably punch him again.

“Can I go now?” the woman asked. 

Neither of the boys spared her a glance. “Yeah, thanks a lot,” Mickey said, still holding Ian’s gaze. If either of them heard her mutter to herself about fucking kids today, they didn’t show it.

“I was right,” Mickey said quietly. Ian nodded. “What do I get for being right?”

“Well, certainly not a steak from this fuckin’ empty lot.” Mickey’s smile didn’t fade. Ian wanted him to always look like that. Happy, and like he could look at Ian forever and not get tired of it. Ian saw Mickey’s eyes shift to look at Ian’s mouth and then he was tired of drawing it out. He leaned down, mouth open, and kissed his boyfriend. Mickey let out a hum of satisfaction and opened his mouth in return, tongue slipping out and running along Ian’s top teeth.

Ian wrapped both his hands around Mickey’s head to pull him closer and yelped in pain. He’d forgotten about his burn and it the booze wasn’t going to cut it as an anesthetic for much longer. 

Mickey pulled pack and took Ian’s injured hand in both of his. He wasn’t smiling anymore, the look of concern he’d been wearing all day was back. Ian had to fight back the surge of anger that look elicited. It was like a Pavlovian response now. 

“You wanna go to an urgent care?” Mickey said. Ian was about to shove him back for even suggesting another goddamn doctor when Mickey continued. “Or you wanna find something to eat?”

Ian was surprised to be given the choice. His anger dissipated. Even if Mickey didn’t trust Ian’s self-preservation instincts much these days, he at least seemed to get that he needed to dial back the Florence Nightingale act.

“Promised you a date,” he said. He leaned in again to kiss Mickey. The kiss was softer this time. 

Mickey pulled back suddenly. For a second, Ian thought he was about to insist they go to a doctor. But Mickey looked so proud of himself.

“I got it! I know where we’re going.” He slipped his arm around Ian’s waist and Ian settled his own over Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey spun them in a circle so they were facing the opposite direction, making Ian laugh.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Mickey said, smiling, not looking at Ian. He started walking and pulled Ian along with him.

“Can I guess?” Ian said. Mickey looked up at him for a moment and shrugged. “Alright, they got tablecloths and shit in this place?”

Mickey shook his head. 

“Uh, how about candles?”

“Nope.”

“Utensils? Please tell me they have utensils. Everything hinges on that.”

Mickey laughed and pulled Ian closer. “I don’t know, man, probably. But we don’t need ‘em.”

Ian’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why not? Do they fuckin’ feed you in there?”

“No, moron, because you eat with your goddamn hands.” Ian stopped and Mickey groaned. “What?”

“The plan was utensils. And nice shirts.” Ian pulled on his shirt. “I got a nice fuckin’ shirt on, Mick, I need utensils in my hand.”

“You only got one good hand, for fuck’s sake!” He tried to move Ian forward, but Ian planted his feet and leaned back against Mickey’s arm. “Ian, come on. Move, bitch.”

“Nope, not until you tell me where we’re going.”

“It’s a fuckin’ surprise, okay? Will you just walk already?”

Ian could tell Mickey was getting seriously annoyed, and a tiny, petulant part of his brain thought,  _Good_. He was sick of being bossed around and treated like an invalid. Worse than an invalid, actually, a  _psycho_. 

“Fine, you wanna ruin it. We’re goin’ to Tommy’s for fuckin’ hot dogs.”

“Tommy’s?” Ian said. Mickey looked disappointed, but Ian couldn’t figure out why. Clearly the place meant something to Mickey, but Ian was drawing a blank. “Why?”

“You said we never went on a date." Mickey sighed and pulled his arm away, wrapping it around himself instead. "I was gonna take you on a date once.” 

“You were? When?” Ian tried to think of a time Mickey could have possibly been planning to take him somewhere. 

“That day you didn’t get out of bed.” He said it so softly it took Ian a second to process the words. That day and the many following it felt like they’d happened underwater. There was a niggling memory of Mickey trying to coax him up, but it was too fuzzy around the edges. “I don’t remember.”

Mickey nodded. He looked sad and a little lost. Ian imagined what it must have been like to be Mickey that morning. All happy, triumphant with his father back in jail. And it had just come crashing down on him, no warning at all. 

“We can go somewhere else,” Mickey said. “It was a stupid idea.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Ian said. He grabbed Mickey by the shoulder and pulled him close, hugging him. They were fuzzy memories, too, but Ian was instantly reminded of how Mickey held him at the police station and the hospital. Mickey had been doing a lot of bossing him around and annoying him lately, sure. But he’d also been comforting him in ways Ian had never expected. And he’d gotten very little in return.

He squeezed Mickey tighter and after a second Mickey’s arms wrapped around his waist and hugged back. 

They stayed that way for a minute or two. Ian was struck by the thought that Mickey Milkovich was actually a pretty good hugger. It made him laugh, which made Mickey pull away.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, squinting up at Ian. 

“I had an idea,” Ian said. He leaned down to kiss Mickey quickly, too brief for Mickey to react. “I’m gonna eat my hot dog with a fuckin’ fork and knife.”

Mickey looked shocked and then sputtered out a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” Ian said, throwing his arm back around Mickey’s shoulder and walking in the direction of Tommy’s. “I think I’m your idiot, though.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I have this idea in my head that Mickey once went to a Sizzler as a kid and thought of it as a fancy restaurant. I myself frequently went to Sizzler with my family in the 90s and totally thought the same thing. They used to be everywhere and now I'm shocked when I see one.
> 
> Can I edit this more times??? Jeez, I'm also onlysmallfic on tumblr. :)


End file.
